When Tomorrow Finally Came
by twist3dl0gic
Summary: A forgotten past, a limitless future, and a world he knew nothing about. But she was an angel, a mystery to solve, and an adventure he planned to discover… [HPxGW]
1. Prologue

A forgotten past, a limitless future, and a world he knew nothing about. But she was an angel, a mystery to solve, and an adventure he planned to discover… HPxGW.

The Past He Forgot

Prologue

The battle raged on for days.

There were death eaters killing without remorse, members of the Order fighting with the Aurors, and helpless, innocent bystanders being murdered. Curses were thrown back and forth in an attempt to eliminate just one pawn on the other side. Anything helped, and casualties, while unfortunate, became necessary for one side to win the war. The dark wizards were more than willing to kill anyone and everyone who opposed them; Harry, however, had decided there was enough death surrounding the wizarding world, and those to die would only be the most deserving. Justice would serve itself.

The moment for everyone to choose a side had long passed; you were either with the Ministry or against it. Shades of gray were not acceptable. Now was the time for everyone to take action. If you were old enough to duel with your wand, you were out on the battlefield. Mothers tried to shelter their children, but the students who had been at Hogwarts when Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was killed were eager for revenge. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and even a few Slytherins banded together to defeat those who followed the Dark Lord.

But the only death that truly mattered was _his_, the leader, the evil Lord Voldemort. It had been a long time coming- twenty years coming, if you counted the way Harry did; it was simply these past few years his search to kill his nemesis had become the number one priority for the entirety of the wizarding world. And it was quite literally a _search_.

After Albus Dumbledore was put into the ground, Harry Potter made his way out into the world with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger at his heels to find the last four horcruxes. It was a harder feat than any of the trio anticipated and quite frankly, couldn't have happened without the help of Severus Snape. The very man whom Harry vowed to never speak to again- to kill on sight, had the circumstances ever allowed- had been the one to present clues and piece together evidence that the three friends found indisputably valuable.

It was all due to Hermione's curious determination that Severus had been accepted back into the Order. She'd taken a risk and gone to meet with him after deciphering a cryptic owl sent to her. A Prince had requested her presence for a meeting of two Phoenixes. Harry and Ron immediately declined the 'invitation' for her (or ignored a trap, as they thought of it), but the young woman needed a bit of closure on what had happened. She knew her potions master had been a double agent all those years, that Albus Dumbledore trusted him until (literally) his dying day, and understood that it was a great risk for him to contact _anyone_ on the light side during such a time. Severus had as much to lose by contacting her as she would taking this audience, and to this day she has no regrets that she "risked her life" for the cause.

Following Severus into the highly public (yet slightly seedy) restaurant that night was Draco Malfoy, the evil git who had started this whole mess. (Now and then Hermione would remind herself that everything had _started_ with Voldemort, and that this particular set of events she was dealing with had been encouraged by Lucius Malfoy, but hating Draco was more tangible for her and the others) Hermione's anger and Gryffindor pride had told her to run right then, but Severus's eyes pleaded with her to listen, _please_. Somewhat reluctantly, she had joined their table and listened as they spoke. Their tale was not one easily swallowed.

According to the older Slytherin, immediately prior to Professor Dumbledore's death, the wizard had been trying to redeem Draco for their own side. Although he knew about Draco's orders to kill him, Albus firmly maintained the belief that Draco was merely trying to preserve what little resemblance of a life he could, believing what so many people believed: that Lord Voldemort would rule the world one day and be a merciful lord to his followers. Severus had known all along what was happening between Draco and Albus; he knew about the attacks, the attempts at murder, the pain and confusion, the attempts at conversion, even the search for the horcruxes. According to him, the two wizards discussed everything at length. A plan was set in stone for how things would be handled. In case of _this_, in case of _that_. Hermione was impressed by the amount of thought the two had put into things, actually, and she found herself particularly fascinated by the story of what was to be done in a case such as up on the tower on That Night.

The war, she decided, must have taken more out of Severus Snape than she realized. When he began to speak of the night he'd been forced to murder his mentor and only friend, tears actually formed in his eyes. He said that Albus willingly gave his life for the cause, that the aged headmaster understood what needed to be done. Severus's role as a double agent had been far too valuable for the Order for him to show loyalties. What good was the headmaster's life if Severus lost Voldemort's favor? If it was between losing the life of the Slytherin double agent or the powerful Gryffindor wizard, well… the choice was obvious, as difficult as it had been.

And so the two gentlemen present at the table with Hermione had returned to Voldemort, telling him that Dumbledore was dead and they remained loyal to the cause. For a few months, Severus was able to gather more information while formulating a plan to make things right. She was told that she was the most naïve of the Order, still young with ideals about men being able to reform and come back to the light. He hadn't meant it as an insult, but it was far from a compliment; such a mentality was easy to play on, he scolded her, and she could easily find herself dead in the wrong hands. But none the less, he was grateful her Gryffindor beliefs and intelligence had managed to work in his favor. And now they could focus of what truly mattered: avenging Albus's death, righting the wizarding world, and defeating He Who Must Not Be Named.

The rest of the Order had not been so willing to accept Severus and Draco back into the fold. Only after both wizards (willingly) turned over their wands, several hours of interrogation under the influence of a (willingly administered) Veritasserum potion as a precaution, had the group been willing to hear the entire story. And Harry never _liked_ spending time with the greasy git; he merely tolerated him for the key to killing Voldemort.

The actual task of killing the Dark Lord had been much more draining than anyone anticipated. Voldemort waited to make his appearance until after almost a full three days of battle. By then, Harry was weakened considerably and barely had the strength for a duel. He knew this needed to be done, however, and stupidly went into the fight, wand blazing about and shouting curses. He managed to disarm his opponent… before his arm was broken. It must have been a spell of some sort, everyone concluded, because according to witnesses there had been no physical contact. They threw curses back and forth at each other, Voldemort expertly blocking and Harry just barely managing to. It didn't even seem that Voldemort was sustaining any injuries, as opposed to Harry who was badly cut and beaten. He'd barely rested those past seventy-two hours, and now his reflexes were starting to slow… With every new dark spell, the young boy began to grow weaker and weaker. His courage was admirable; he proved himself to be a true hero in those hours. In the end, however, it would be his best friend Ron Weasley who made the final defeat of Lord Voldemort possible.

Like so many years before, Ron sacrificed himself. The redhead saw his best friend struggling to stay standing in his battle. He recalled the conversation that declared it as Harry's Battle, but in that moment, Ron didn't care. He rushed to Harry's side, or really, he rushed to stand adjacent to make Voldemort turn his back on his friend. He threw a curse at the evil being, barely striking him, but it proved to be enough of a distraction that Harry could forever banish the Dark Lord, casting the _Avada Kedavra_, and forever ridding the world of He Who Must Not Be Named.

But the cost, oh, it was great.

Ron Weasley died that night. His death was quick, and he was easily discarded by the dark lord, a quick death that barely took any energy to accomplish. As Voldemort cast the killing curse on the redhead, Harry searched deep inside himself to find the strength to cast his own curse on the evil wizard. Harry was devastated to watch the events unfold; Ron paid the ultimate price for his best friend. First his parents, now his best friend in the whole world… His first friend in the whole world… Harry would be lying if he said he didn't take pleasure in killing that thing that once terrorized his world.

Ron Weasley died that night. But his death was a noble one and not without plenty of remorse. He'd been brave to do what he did, and his entire family never felt so proud of him.

Harry Potter fainted after that battle, after casting the final curse that killed Lord Voldemort and successfully ending his reign for all eternity. Healers set to work immediately, healing his broke arm and mending the cuts and bruises. But there was no cure, magical or muggle, for the after effects of that night. Harry Potter didn't just lose his best friend that night.

Harry Potter lost his memory.

**A/N:** This will be a novel length Harry/Ginny romance story. I thought of this idea just randomly, and began writing the prologue. I shared it with a friend, CSebastiene, and she gladly accepted the role of beta. Some of the bits are a collaboration of her mind and mine, and I'm betting she'll be kicking my ass to update frequently. So everyone thank her, haha. Anyways, first chapter should be up soon. And if you're interested, there's a 'promotional' banner you can find here: img85.imageshack.us/img85/2955/tphfpromojp0.png


	2. Chapter One

When Tomorrow Finally Came

Chapter One

The fates bloody well loved toying with her.

A few hours ago, Ginny Weasley had been informed that Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had terrorized the world for more than half of her life, was dead. Banished, vanquished, and gone forever! She'd been forced to stay off the battlefield that night. Her mum didn't care that Ginny had been present at the Ministry in her fourth year that night the kids went after the prophecy, or that she'd fought at the end of her fifth year against death eaters and Fenrir Greyback, the wolf responsible for Bill's greatest injuries to date. Ginny Weasley would simply have to go into hiding, remain safe, and wait for the end to come… However it might have looked when it came.

Then the news came. The war was over, and they had won. A tidal wave of joy and excitement surged through the young redhead. Truthfully, she half expected for the destruction and carnage to magically disappear and for everything to melt into this beautiful paradise where everything was wonderful again. There would be sunshine peaking through the trees, fairies flying around with the unicorns prancing, and everyone would be happy again. Those who died would magically come back, and there would be no loss; only good.

And then there, amidst all the reunions and celebrations, Harry Potter would kiss her, and things would be just like before.

This fantasy, however, quickly dissolved into the gloom reality of loved ones discovered among the casualties and people began to ask, "What now?" For many, this question proved difficult to answer. Families felt obligated to mourn the losses they experienced, and yet overjoyed by the prospect of truly living. Ginny herself looked forward to rekindling a romance shared with the victorious hero himself.

That is if he would let her, anyhow…

But as those who fought began trickling back into the battle station set within Hogwarts, this Weasley couldn't help but notice a certain Gryffindor wasn't among the survivors… Possibilities mangled by fear ran through her mind. Was he murdered? Did that final blast ricochet off pure evil and hit him as well? Was the power too great for him to control? Was he still out there somewhere, bleeding to death? Ginny's heart raced thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong. Then she began to wonder; where was Ron? Or Hermione? Or Charlie, the twins, or her father? Why was everyone taking so long?

Panic set in. She pushed her way through the crowds, ignoring her mother's pleas to stay put and just _wait_. Orders went on ignored as the fears of the young witch took control. Soon she left the castle and headed out to the battlefield. Aurors stopped her from getting any further; they ushered her back into the Great Hall telling her to just stay seated, and her family would be here soon. She sat, but in true Weasley fashion, she pouted the entire time.

After an eternity, a group of Healers brought in the Boy Who Lived, levitating him onto a makeshift hospital bed. Following the dark haired boy was Hermione Granger. Then after that, no one.

Something about the way Hermione couldn't stop crying made Ginny realize that her brother had died. The brunette sat crumpled in a ball next to her unconscious best friend, her head draped into her hands to hide the tears that rolled out of her. Regardless of her efforts, the loud sobs gave her away. _Nothing_ could have concealed the screeches escaping her mouth; how hadn't anyone realized the set of lungs on Hermione until then? Ginny reached out to her friend and held her close. As she did so, Hermione confirmed her fears.

"He's dead…," she shouted to no one in particular. "He's dead, he's gone! He _killed_ him… And Harry won't wake up!"

Ginny's own tears splashed down her cheeks, looking up to see her mother fight through the crowd to get to them. The daughter's face scrunched up in pain, but she wouldn't release Hermione from her arms. The two girls rocked back and forth, mourning their shared loss. Molly collapsed onto the floor, causing her own scene. The women didn't know how to deal with what had happened, and the youngest had her own conflict boiling within.

Harry was _alive_! He was right there, breathing, and bleeding, but that could be fixed! She noticed the Healers had already patched him up a bit; his arm was in a sling, and there were bandages covering the worst of the wounds. But he was _there_, and he still looked absolutely beautiful to her.

Did rejoicing in Harry's life mean she wasn't properly mourning her brother's death? Ginny didn't know the answer, and she cried over the guilt she felt for even thinking of being glad with Ron gone. _What happened_, she wondered. Why Ron? Why not someone else? Why not _her_? Ginny could have been there to fight; she could have been there to save him.

She _should_ have been there.

The mix of anger, guilt, and sorrow beat her up for the following hours, during which her father returned to them. After Arthur revealed himself healthy and alive, the Weasleys began to appear like magic. First Charlie found the huddle (barely scathed, Ginny noticed. How had he managed that?), and then both of the twins limped over. Bill and Fleur came down to the Great Hall from their chambers in one of towers, having been forced to hide; Bill had already lost so much in this war, he couldn't risk his life or his wife's. Eventually even Percy stopped over to join the hugs and tears. His were awkward hugs, but Ginny couldn't deny how terribly happy she was to have all of her brothers with here now.

Or, what was left…

Neville Longbottom also made an appearance, offering his condolences and hugging Ginny and Hermione. He whispered a thank you to Harry, despite his not being able to hear, and staved off to find other friends that might have been injured in the battle. He was not the first to pay respects to the two male Gryffindors who invaded Ginny's thoughts. A trail of students, a few teachers, and even a few ministry officials stopped in to try and thank the Boy Who Lived. Secretly Ginny just wanted to kick everyone away from her; couldn't they see everyone here was in pain? The family was sharing a private moment, and it kept getting interrupted.

She was actually thankful when Harry had been relocated to the Hospital Wing into a private area. (The word 'private' was very loosely used, because what made it private was a curtain hung up to quarter off the area.) The Weasleys and Hermione were allowed to visit the boy one at a time off and on again all night long and the following days. Hermione and Ginny were the two to spend the most time at his bedside, sharing an equal number of hours crying at the sight of the Boy Who Refused to Wake.

This is where Ginny was currently sitting. It was almost noon, but the young woman barely slept and tended to rest her eyes while 'spending time with' Harry. In about fifteen minutes, Hermione would be headed in to 'dismiss' Ginny and take the next shift of sitting and waiting. Even with such little time left, the current watcher hoped that there might be some movement or a change in Harry's state. He'd been consistently unconscious for the past six days, and even the Healers were starting to worry.

Then, as Ginny's eyes almost began to water, she felt the hand she held twitch. Just slightly, but it was enough to make her jump. She stood up and moved away from the bed, softly calling, "Harry?"

To which he responded with a guttural groan and jerking his head around.

During the war, Ginny took the time to learn a few things about healing, contemplating it as a possible life choice. (Her reasoning was that if she couldn't be _on_ the field fighting, perhaps she could be _off_ field helping.) She knew that his harsh movements might hurt him; throwing his weight around might hurt the arm which was still healing or hurt his neck, or any of the other muscles which still had remnants of curses in them and needed another two to three weeks to completely heal. She steadied his body, stroking his hair with one hand and holding his chest steady with the other. A soft coo sounded from her lips: a minor attempt to soothe him as he began to wake.

"Harry…," she whispered into his ear. Hearing his named seemed to soothe him for a second, and then he jolted up and looked at her blankly.

"Who are you?" he asked quickly. The words almost came out as one, he spoke so fast, but his volume allowed Ginny to hear him clearly.

"Harry, it's me… Ginny."

"Right, Ginny. Of course." She flashed a grateful smile at Harry then, clearly ready to start crying. She looked relieved, until he followed up with: "And who _are_ you, Ginny?"

This question caused Ginny more pain that she ever thought imaginable. There her boyfriend laid, right before her, finally awake, and he had _no bloody idea who she was!!_ He looked at her as though they were just meeting for the first time. After their history… after everything they'd been through together… He simply sat there claiming to have no memory of her.

That _hurt_.

She began to sob again, like all the times she had in the past week. "Harry," she choked out. "Don't you remember me? At all? I've known you since you were… We've known each other since you were about eleven. And… And we were…"

Ginny had yet to release Harry's hand, which she realized as he pulled away from her grasp. He looked down at where they were previously maintaining contact and blushed a bit, clearly embarrassed to have been sharing affection with someone he 'didn't know'.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you." He paused to swallow his saliva and presumably collect his thoughts, because he became silent for a few moments. When he spoke, all he asked was, "Where exactly am I?"

Ginny blinked before answering. "You're at Hogwarts, Harry, where you went to school."

This answer seemed unsatisfactory to him (she could tell from the way his brows furrowed, as if he was trying to calculate a particularly difficult arithmetic problem). It set him off, asking question after question.

"Where exactly _is_ Hogwarts? And what is it?"

"It's in Scotland, Harry. It's our school, like I said."

"I know you said it's a school, but what kind of boarding school is it?"

"Boarding school?" she asked, her turn to be confused.

"Yes, I don't remember Hogwarts being an option for schooling. Uncle Vernon said I was to attend—", but he couldn't finish his sentence; Ginny interrupted him immediately.

"Harry, Hogwarts is the school your mother and father went to. Don't you remember? You came here when you were eleven, you're a wizard."

(Here he blinked a few times, unsure of whether or not he had heard her right.)

"My mother and father… I'm a… a… a what?"

Suddenly Ginny realized she was in over her head with this conversation. If she was to understand correctly, Harry couldn't remember anything in the past seven years. How could she be the one to fill him on what had been going on? She couldn't tell him he was a wizard, that his parents had been murdered (not in a car crash like he believed, but by an evil wizard who he himself had just vanquished from the earth for all eternity), that he's spent the past seven years fight a war which finally ended last week, that he was unbelievably famous, that his best friend was dead, and that he'd lived an entire life he couldn't remember?

Yes, she was in over her head, and she needed the help of anyone at all.

Hermione walked in then, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Harry sitting up and about to speak. Before Harry could blink at the new arrival, Hermione's arms wrapped around him and held him close to her chest.

"OH Harry!!" she animatedly exclaimed. "You're awake! Oh, you're awake! Harry!!"

Like the other girl, Hermione's reaction involved an overwhelming fit of joyous tears that Harry quite honestly found a bit… overwhelming! Mostly he sat there in shock, not quite ready to push the bushy haired girl off of him or prepared to hug her back.

The arms muffled his ears, but he managed to make out what the girls were talking about. "Ginny, go get the Healers; they'll want to see him." _Healers?_ At least he knew who Ginny was…

"No, Hermione. _You_ go get them; he's just woken up! I want… Hermione, he doesn't remember me!!"

This news must have startled the girl holding his head, he decided, because she immediately pulled away. Her eyes searched his face, a small frown pursed on her lips.

"Harry?"

"Are you my girlfriend, then?"

This question was apparently the Wrong Thing to Say.

The redheaded girl stomped out of the small room he was in, apparently fairly miffed; when she knocked over a glass of water, she chose to keep walking instead of pausing to clean up the mess. He looked at the water spilling out onto the floor and briefly recalled the last few days he could. Days with his family, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley, where he spent his time cooking and cleaning and basically acting like Cinder-bloody-ella. Where were they now that he was finally awake? Probably absolutely thrilled that they didn't have to deal with him for however long he had been missing…

They probably didn't even care that he was awake, unlike these two women who he felt were over-reacting.

Before he could give his current situation much thought, his private area was being swarmed by people he didn't (or possibly couldn't) recognize. A few adults he judged to be about twice his age began poking, prodding, and asking questions. Suddenly the suffocating hug the Her-my-knee girl ensconced him in earlier seemed far less invasive.

As he answered question after question, Harry began to wonder where those two girls had gone. Were they his friends? What if they were his only friends? Was that why he was here alone? At some point, he realized he was dolling out more answers than he was getting for himself. Perhaps he could persuade these people to trade knowledge with him; he'll provide the information they were seeking if he could just get a few details on his life.

He snorted a bit. That seemed bloody unlikely.

Harry noticed he kept swearing. Did he grow up to be a man with an anger problem? His current thoughts certainly proved the theory.

"Excuse me, might you tell me what's going on?" he finally demanded. His voice was harsh and held an impatient note. His face made it clear that he refused to answer anymore questions about his well being until he got a few answers of his own. "Where am I? Some girl told me this is Hogwarts… But what is that and what am I doing here?"

A tall blonde woman stepped forth, introducing herself as Sarah Jones. "I'm a muggleborn like yourself; I can understand the confusion at first."

"A muggleborn?"

"Yes, you know, someone who has both wizard and muggle lineage. Muggles are non-magic folk. Your mum was muggleborn, Harry. And I believe your dad was a pureblood, meaning only wizards came from his family."

"My parents… They died when I was little; I live with my aunt and uncle. Where are they?" Harry didn't honestly much care for the answer, but he felt obligated to ask. If he'd just woken up from an extensive coma, perhaps he now had no where to go… And if that was the case, he might want to immediately start looking into jobs, flats, anything to get him away from the terror of his Uncle.

The woman speaking with him sat down in the chair the redhead had occupied earlier. Ms. Jones seemed nice enough to Harry; she was willing to answer his questions, and her tone wasn't clipped. He began to assume things about his past. If this… (_What was her name?_) Jenny girl could be believed, he'd been living his life up until very recently. He wondered how much of it he could get from Ms. Jones before she started to give him that Doctor-patient attitude he'd heard about on the telly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, your aunt and uncle and cousin, they can't come to see you. Not here, they're muggles, and this place is only for our kind. We'll contact them for you, of course; let them know you're alright and up now."

The moment she stopped speaking, Harry jumped in with his next question. "How long was I out?"

"Six days or so." The answer came promptly. It was direct and quick, exactly what Harry's impatient nature demanded.

The pattern continue for a few more minutes, him asking things like what could be expected for him now and where was he to go; she telling him he would be watched for any changes in his health for the next forty-eight hours but then he was free to go where ever he chose. Just as he collected the nerve to ask what happened to him, a short, plump woman barged in crying out his name.

"Harry, dear, I'm so glad you're awake! Hermione came to fetch me right away," (here she engulfed him in an even more suffocating than the aforementioned girl), "Dearie, how are you doing? Are you alright? Is this young man alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, ma'am." Somehow, he managed to push this lady off of him and, for all things considered, calmly asked her who she was.

"Harry, dear, it's me, Mrs. Weasley." In response to the confused look forming on his face, she nearly shouted, "Well, I'm practically your _mother_, silly boy!"

"Mrs. Weasley, please, if you could?" one of the Healers scooted her away and began casting a spell. The whole thing quite frankly freaked Harry out more than he could have ever imagined. His eyes drowned in fear; his lips twisted into a panic. What were these people_ doing_ to him? And if this was his supposed almost-mother, why wasn't she _stopping_ it??

Sarah pulled aside the loud woman and began whispering. Even with the noise of people bustling about, Harry discovered the room to be particularly quiet and found it easy to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"He's woken up and is asking questions about where he is and is asking for his aunt and uncle," the lady was saying in a hushed tone. "He doesn't appear to remember anything about Hogwarts, and we're thinking he doesn't have _any_ memories from the past seven years… Mrs. Weasley, he has amnesia. He hasn't any idea who you are, or anyone."

_Amnesia_? He had amnesia? Obviously, this made sense, but still, somehow the news that he'd lived an entire life and had no knowledge of it… He felt very scared all of a sudden, trying to grasp a hold on any memory he might be able to. That girl earlier- the one hugging him. Clearly they were close… He struggled with his mind to recall something of her- a last name, how they met, her birthday, a reason why he liked her- but nothing came to mind. Or that other girl, the one holding his hand? She said they'd known each other these past seven years, and how had _they_ met? Were they close? Were they friends? Like a sister to him? _Anything_, he begged, _just please let me remember anything!_

Before he could even try to process the blanks and make his way through his most recent memories (_Dudley's birthday? That was ages ago!_), the woman named Mrs. Weasley was making her way to him again. After a brief (and yet, somehow, still suffocating) hug, she took the seat next him which had occupied so many others in the past fifteen minutes.

"Harry, dear, there are some things that you need to hear about your life." She took a moment to breathe and form her thoughts; this would be a difficult conversation indeed. "This may be hard for hear, dear, but not everything you know about your life is true. You see, when you were just a young boy…"

Mrs. Weasley's voice began to explain the history and the things that had happened since Harry's eleventh birthday. She spoke of his parents death and the wizard who had killed them, of how Harry had just killed that wizard and rid the wizarding world of his evil, of the few encounters that had taken place while at school, of how he no longer had contact with his remaining 'family', but that was ok since the Weasleys were like family. She told him that Lily and James had left him a small fortune, but even still, he was more than welcome to stay at the Burrow until he got on his feet. She said there were some things too painful to discuss just yet and that she expected him to get his memories back soon, but if not… Well, they would cross that bridge when they got there.

The young man quickly formed an opinion of the woman before him. The conviction in her voice as she offered a home and spoke of supporting him convinced Harry that he could easily view her as a mother figure. His heart ached for her to hold him again, as if her affections might will away all of the confusion. Something in his thoughts must have registered on his face, because soon he was pulled into an embrace that lasted several minutes. Possibly up to a half hour, he realized later. During this time he accepted her offer for a 'home' and offered her anything he could give in return.

And then, mumbled into Molly's shoulder, Harry asked, "When do we leave for home?"

&&&

**AN:** Well, here's the first chapter, and I hope everyone thinks it's at least decent. As you can see, we're moving things fairly slowly to develop things. Which means that reading this might kill you with how slow it's taking just to start up. Originally, there was going to be a bit more about the Weasleys, but I've decided to end it where it is to get this up sooner. Plus it sort of felt right. Anyways, still thanks to my beta CS and now to The Fray who inspires me in the HP fandom like nothing else. And here's a new promo banner for the story: img411.imageshack.us/img411/9030/promo4kt0.png . As you can see, it includes six 'main characters'. Ginny (played by Isla Fisher), Harry (Dan Radcliffe), Draco (Tom Felton), Ron (Rupert Grint), Charlie (Anthony Rapp), and Hermione (Keri Russell). Each has a fairly in depth storyline mapped out. And I can't WAIT to get to all of them. Thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter Two

When Tomorrow Finally Came

Chapter Two

Now that the war was finally done and 'over with', Hermione found she had little else to think about. Ever since she first stepped foot into the castle where she began her magical training, the only thing on her mind was how to help Harry stop He Who Must Not Be Named. For the trio, this war consumed their lives. Each year they encountered a new form of evil always perpetuated by the Dark Lord himself, and each year she helped them to stop their arch-nemesis from gaining control of the world. Now the struggle was over; it was done with completely. Next year (or really, the rest of this year), there wouldn't be a new mystery to examine.

Now all she could do was reflect. Reflect on what had happened, on who she was, on who she might end up being… It was hard, really, thinking about all the options she had when so many people had just died. Just thinking about how unfair it all was sometimes made her cry. But never around the Weasleys, and _never_ around Harry.

Crying around anyone at the Burrow seemed insensitive. After all, she hadn't lost a son or brother- or even her memory! All know-it-all Hermione Granger lost was her dear friend, long-time crush/short-time boyfriend. And he had been important to her, sure, and she did miss him something awful… But the Weasleys were really the ones in mourning. Not her. She wouldn't cheapen their feelings by crying every twenty minutes, because she felt guilty for _surviving._ That just wouldn't do.

It was hard, though, to find the balance between respectfully quiet and overly perky. For all her books and cleverness, Hermione Granger knew very little of what certain social scenarios demanded. What exactly was the proper way to act around a family in the Weasleys' situation? You would think that by now, she would have figured out even a few general rules to follow; she, like Harry, had been staying at the Burrow.

Of course, thankfully, she was only around a few members of the family. Bill and Fleur had moved into a cabin in Hogsmede. Percy returned to his flat, naturally. Fred and George popped in now and then, but mostly they set to work on their joke shop. Only Ginny and Charlie remained in their rooms. Ginny because she wasn't of age yet, Charlie because his place was in Romania, and he didn't have one in England.

It felt awkward for Hermione to be around him so often. After all, in the entire time she had known Ron, Harry and she had only seen Charlie a handful of times. He had been off with dragons, off chasing his dreams. Even in the war, he rarely popped in for Order things. Suddenly, here he was. In the living room reading a book. In the backyard spending some time in the winter air. At the table eating meals. She bumped into him on the stairs, in the hallways. It was like she couldn't get him out of her sight.

Not that privacy was easy to get in a busy home such as their. But she didn't think she would have to _try_ to escape Charlie! Perhaps she only found it awkward because she had previously seen so little of him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Yes?" she called.

A head with messy dark hair peered in. Hermione smiled at the boy and patted her bed, encouraging him to come join her. He did, taking care to shut the door before he did.

"Hello," he said once he sat on the foot of the bed.

"Hello, Harry," she answered. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. Truth was, he didn't know _what_ he was supposed to be doing. "Guess I just thought… Well, that maybe we could talk. Since we're friends, right?"

Her curly hair shook wildly as Hermione nodded. This new development thrilled her. As of yet, Harry had been unwilling to have personal conversations with anyone. Mostly he kept quiet and everyone told him what to do or answered questions about who he was. What he learned so far was that there was a war, he fought in it (and consequently gotten injured), and that he was staying with the only _real_ family he had ever known. (Even with his missing memory, Harry knew this bit was true; the past two weeks with the redheads and the woman before him was by far superior to the ten years spent with his uncle, aunt, and cousin.)

"Anything you had in mind?" he heard Hermione ask.

Harry wanted to answer yes, he wanted to hear about him. But so far any questions where answers might 'stress' him had been brushed off. The young boy suspected it was 'healer's orders'.

Instead he played with the quilt on the bed and said, "No, just wanted to talk to you. Don't really know what to do with myself, and… It would be nice to talk to someone about it. I mean, isn't it odd for you to be here? You're not related to the rest of them, isn't that right?"

Hermione shook her head, answering both questions with the simple gesture. "Actually, it would be weird for me to go home. I haven't been in a while, and well… It would be quite different. From being in the wizarding world. My parents are muggles, they don't know much about what happened." She paused, giving Harry enough time to interject with any questions he might have. When didn't say anything, she continued. "You see, Harry, my parents just don't understand what's been going on with us. I've tried very hard to make them think I was perfectly safe. I can't… It would be too different. I can't go home just yet."

"I should think it would be nice to escape all this," Harry said suddenly. His words made Hermione realize that Harry probably just wanted to forget he was completely memoryless. For him, it would be nice to go somewhere that was his definition of normal. Where fires didn't burst out in conversation, where ghouls didn't drop pipes. Where things didn't clean itself. Hermione didn't know how to tell Harry that he loved it here.

"Harry… you and I… we lost a lot of friends. Going home now… I think I'd feel like I'd be just forgetting anything happened," she started. "I can't be home and mourn the way I need to. Does that make sense?"

His only response was to stare blankly. He _did_ see. This girl he felt connected to stayed away from her blood relatives to feel sad about the loss of the family she found here in the wizard's world. He admitted that he was a little thankful she hadn't left just yet. They were best friends, or so he was told, and he needed a best friend then.

"Can you tell me about myself, Hermione?" His voice wavered a bit when he used her name. He didn't use names if he could help it; he re-met so many people, sometimes he still mixed them up. "Or about us? Or anything, really. I'm going crazy trying to remember things, and I'd just like to know… _Something_."

She sighed at his request. It wasn't the first time he had asked, and it felt funny to be answering things like that. But she knew if he didn't find out about himself soon, he would start to get angry. She skimmed her memories, trying to decide where to start.

_At the beginning,_ she supposed. "We met our first year at Hogwarts. You didn't like me much at first, but then you saved me from a troll, and well… How do you survive that and _not_ be friends?"

She could have laughed at Harry's expression then. It communicated a large amount of disbelief, mostly through the eyes. Like trolls could _really_ exist, and if they did, weren't they supposed to be tiny? And how could _he_ save her from anything? He didn't feel very powerful.

Hermione appeared to be reading his mind, because she began talking again, speaking about the things going through Harry's mind. "You've saved a lot people, Harry. Not just me and Ron and Ginny… At some point or another, you've saved nearly everyone in Hogwarts. When you… just before… I mean…" She struggled to find the words to tell him what lead to the circumstances he was in. She swallowed a lump in her throat, and just decided to be blunt. "Harry, you lost your memory killing a very, very evil thing. You saved all the wizards in the world by doing that. Not only that, but you taught a lot of our peers how to fight. You're a very powerful, very _good_ wizard."

This new piece of information satisfied Harry's quest to discover how he got this way. He didn't need specifics. (Well, they would be nice, but they weren't necessary.) But he still didn't really know who _he_ was, and that was just as important as discovering why he couldn't remember it in the first place.

It sparked him to ask, "What about… well, what about my friends? Aside from you. What about girlfriends?"

"You and I… we were closest to Ron. He… he died. This is his family; it became yours. We had other friends in our year, of course. Dean Thomas and Seamus and Neville. They all made it out alive. And you played Quidditch! It's a wizarding sport," she explained to his questioning gaze. "Don't ask me what it is; I know _nothing_. Ginny could tell you. She could tell you about being captain and your friends on the team… You're a brilliant flyer, Harry."

Then she stopped talking. Harry got the sense it was because he hadn't _had_ any girlfriends, and she needed time to think of a good memory to share with him. But as resigned himself to being a girlfriend-less loser, what she said threw the theory right out the window.

"Well, fifth year you sort of dated Cho Chang."

His ears perked up, and his hand gestured her to continue.

"She's… Well, I never cared for her. Demanded entirely too much attention, if you ask me. You broke up because… Well, I'm not entirely sure, actually. Probably because she cried a lot."

Harry wondered what he could have seen in a girl like that. Generally, he didn't appreciate the dramatics. Or, at least, he hadn't before when he was a kid.

"She died, Harry. In the fight against… against Voldemort."

With the unsettling news, Harry's heart sunk a bit. He wasn't sure why; he couldn't remember the girl or the relationship Hermione was describing. But knowing that he has lost that connection… It _was_ a reason to be upset, he told himself, even if it was the wrong one.

"Was she the only one?" His voice was small, like he might be ashamed he wasn't properly grieving. Yet there was something there, Hermione noticed. Like he might have _liked _to have a girlfriend. Or maybe just another definite label to put on another person. Still, Hermione was a little hesitant to tell Harry about the relationship with Ginny. They lived together, after all. And _that _would put awkwad on a whole new level; Ginny already avoided Harry as it was was.

"Were there any others?" Harry asked again.

Hermione nodded.

Harry blinked.

"Ginny," she told him.

"Oh," he answered. That name he knew for sure. How do you forget someone who fled the room every time you entered it? Of course, now he understood. He didn't think he could stand to be in the room with his girlfriend if she forgot him. "Are we... Still together?"

Hermione shook her head 'no'. "You wouldn't allow her to be too close to you during the battle. You told her... Well, I think you promised her you would come back to her."

And he hadn't. He'd come back, but not for her.

Now he _really _understood why she avoided him. The poor girl must have been absolutely heartbroken. He felt guilty, even if it wasn't his fault, and he wished he could just remember himself (not for the first time) to ease everyone else's pain.

He stood up, saying, "Hermione, I think I'm going to go to my room. I think I need to be alone for a bit..." Hermione nodded to his, understanding that any new information might be a bit overwhelming, but this especially... She would consider it too much for herself, really.

"Alright, Harry. Feel free to knock when you're... ready." At this, her friend bent down and hugged her, whispering a thank you into her hair. She held him back and blinked back tears, telling herself that she wouldn't cry. He left, and she stayed very still for a few moments. If she could just stop herself... Just for a little while... Maybe she could control her feelings. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't break down, she would understand what was going on and not be upset. Things would be fine. Just be still. Be still.

It became a mantra for her. _Be still..._ It lulled her into a deep sleep. She dreamnt of Harry and Ron the way they used to be. Of Ginny tagging along, and Fred and George playing pranks on everyone. She woke up hours later, darkness having settled in by now. She could hear noises downstairs; people walking around and talking. She knew instantly she had missed dinner at that point. Molly probably let her sleep, thinking she must have been exhausted.

_Only mentally..._, she thought.

Hermione recalled the afternoon's events and thought for (just a moment) perhaps she had dreamed the whole thing. Harry had yet to really speak, and it hardly made sense for him to open up to someone with so few answers about his condition. But it might make sense for him to open up to someone his own age. The proof that he really was there was in the imprint at the bottom of her bed. She smiled at it, then tentaively reached out and touched it. _Oh, Harry..._, she thought.

Smoothing her hair, Hermione made her way out the door. She rubbed at her eyes trying to get the sleep out of them. Suddenly she felt hands on her arms, stopping her from moving any furthur.

"Careful there," she heard someone say. "Or you might take someone out."

She immediately removed her hands from her face, forcing her arms to her side and her face up to the speaker.

Of course. Charlie Weasley. The man who refused to leave her line of vision.

Not that they didn't get along. She just didn't really know him very well.

Nodding, she said, "Hello, Charlie. How're you?"

He smiled. "Fine, Hermione. Just waking up?"

She nodded some more. "I don't know what happened. I was talking with Harry earlier, and when he left, I fell asleep."

"Harry spoke with you? An actual conversation?" He sounded shocked, but not concerned. More like amazed Harry might be up to speaking with anyone. "What did he say?"

His attempt to keep tabs on Harry surprised her a bit; was every adult charged with the task of watching over Harry?

"We talked about him. Don't give me that look," she scolded at his patronizing gaze. "I only told him about his friendship with me. He asked about me a bit, why I was still here. Our friendship. I didn't tell him anything _traumatizing._"

Charlie rolled his eyes at this. "I didn't think you were off telling stories about You-Know-Who. I just don't think you should be discussing the past without word from the Healers. You never know what might set off his memory, and you know what they said. We can't risk forcing him to remember before he's ready. The grief may be too much." Hermione softened a bit at the obvious concern in his voice. How had she missed that before? "And while we're at it, why _haven't_ you gone home? You must miss your mum and dad. You haven't seen them in ages."

Picking a spot just to the right of Charlie's shoulder, she told him, "I can't leave Harry just yet, Charlie. My best friend... He died. And now Harry doesn't even know who I _am_. How can I go home? He needs me here."

The Weasley stood there staring at the young woman. His eyes betrayed any neutrality he might have. Within those brown orbs was a deep pool of concern and compassion. Hermione might have seen it for herself, if she wasn't avoiding looking at him directly in the eye. For the first time, Charlie truly understood how difficult things were for Hermione. She must have been so alone.

And for the first time, Charlie wished he could do something to comfort the woman he had been acquainted with for years but never known.


End file.
